Eric Cockrell Poems

if i laid with you
would you talk with me?
that talking without words,
without pretension or
...

walking with Rilke
down these varicose streets,
hands trembling, and bruised.
...

quit...
telling me that
i'm going to hell
...

madness, van gogh's ear...
i keep chopping up
pieces of my soul,
...

living in a tent
in the rain
in the woods
...

i can taste my desire
on your lips, turned bitter
with the wounds of time...
...

flesh colored ghosts
walking through the
oil fields... carrying
...

with an impotent hand
and a limp pen
he scratches at the scabs
pf the exposed soul...
...

true democracy
never conquers
by force... never
...

God, it's a pretty day!
late summer sunshine,
with just enough of a breeze
to keep it from being unbearably hot...
...